WILLIARD MITTY? (re: JAMES THURBER)

 Why have no MITT/MITTY parodies been written before now?  We only have two days to go before the election--wasted opportunity.  "The name Walter Mitty and the derivative word "Mittyesque"^[5] have entered the English language, denoting an ineffectual person who spends more time in heroic daydreams than paying attention to the real world, or more seriously, one who intentionally attempts to mislead or convince others that he is something that he is not."   You'd think Thurber had prescient vision.

Ah, well, the joy of reading the original:
 In the short story Mitty is a Navy hydroplane pilot, a surgeon,  a WWI bomber pilot, an accused murderer, and finally a defiant spy facing the firing squad.

"WE'RE going through!" The Commander's voice was like thin ice breaking. The pounding of the cylinders increased: ta-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa.
------------
  A huge, complicated machine, connected to the operating table, with many tubes and wires, began at this moment to go pocketa-pocketa-pocketa. "The new anesthetizer is giving away!" shouted an intern. "There is no one in the East who knows how to fix it!" . (Mitty) sprang to the machine, which was now going pocketa-pocketa-queep-pocketa-queep .  "Give me a fountain pen!" he snapped. Someone handed him a fountain pen. He pulled a faulty piston out of the machine and inserted the pen in its place. "That will hold for ten minutes," 
---------
 Captain Mitty stood up and strapped on his huge Webley-Vickers automatic. "It's forty kilometers through hell, sir," said the sergeant. Mitty finished one last brandy. "After all," he said softly, "what isn't?" The pounding of the cannon increased; there was the rat-tat-tatting of machine guns, and from somewhere came the menacing pocketa-pocketa-pocketa of the new flame-throwers. 

------------  an accused murderer, "With any known make of gun," he said evenly, "I could have killed Gregory Fitzhurst at three hundred feet with my left hand."

 He stood up against the wall of the drugstore, smoking

----------- He put his shoulders back and his heels together. "To hell with the handkerchief," said Waker Mitty scornfully. He took one last drag on his cigarette and snapped it away. Then, with that faint, fleeting smile playing about his lips, he faced the firing squad; erect and motionless, proud and disdainful, Walter Mitty the Undefeated, inscrutable to the last. 

My favorite has always been the fountain pen replacement--fabulous, and it even sounds like it might work.

Just the expression "pocketa pocketa pocketa queep brings a smile to my face.